Dark City
by See Jane Conform
Summary: AU B/V; vaguely inspired by the movie of the same name. Our two fav characters continually hop from different incarnations of themselves, finding love along the way until Vegita begins to catch on, breaks free of the programming, and isn't too happy.....
1. In the beginning

AN: Their countries government is based on the United States, just so y'all know. This is heavily influenced by sci-fi movies. Expect it to be reminiscent of Dark City (duh) as well as matrix, 13th floor, (ever noticed all of those movies are alike too?) And don't ask me about timelines because especially at the end of the fic, it'll be pretty psycho. Anywho, enjoy and read my other dbz fic "Mysterious Matchmaker"!  
  
  
  
  
  
"Madame President?"   
  
The woman turned at the sound of the voice intruding her thoughts. The sun from the open window lit her hair; a waterfall cascading over slender shoulders, shoulders that bore the unseen weight of a country's expectations.  
  
"Yes?" She questioned, her voice tired and her spirit drained.  
  
"The Secretary of Defense is here. He," a pause, "wishes an audience."  
  
"Wishes?" a delicate snort told the other how far she believed that, "How many casualties?"  
  
"Three interns have been sent to medbay so far."   
  
A sigh.  
  
"Send him in then, at least we can give the boys at the pentagon a break from his tyranny."  
  
He entered her office in a flash of military fatigues and flame hair. A scowl planted on his face as he stood at attention. She dropped back into a chair, weary at even looking at his rigid posture.   
  
He was everything she despised. Joined the army when he was still a kid by forging papers no one had bothered to check. He lived for fighting alone, the cause always coming second. He was strength incarnated. His tactical mind was sharp, his strategies genius. He easily raised through the ranks though any fool could see he longed to be back at the war front fighting hand to hand.   
  
But he demanded respect, and he got it. Something she was still struggling for. Though she disliked the man, she invited him into her cabinet at suggestion by her advisors. Being young, female, and beautiful, she had three strikes against her before she could even open her mouth. Not many took her seriously, least of all the man in front of her.   
  
"Well? Is this a social call or do you have something you need to discuss?"  
  
"Bolivia's military command is in the process of switching control. Their troops are inactive and there will be a window of 36 hours in which the country will be defenseless. I propose we arrange a blitz. We could easily take control of the country with minimum casualties."  
  
"I'm sure we could." She leaned forward and placed her elbows on the desk. "But why would we want to? The world is at peace, even if it is a somewhat shaky agreement. Besides, we're the lone superpower. There is no need to prove our strength."  
  
"There is always need to prove our strength. We must never let any country forget what we are capable of. If they lose their fear, we'll lose our control."  
  
"Vegita," she listened to him growl as he always did when she broke formalities, "Just stick to defense. We have no reason to attack anyone."  
  
"You're going to be the ruin of this country woman!"  
  
"Woman!" this got her out of her seat and dangerously close to the enraged male. "I'm not a woman! I'm the President of the strongest country in the world!"  
  
"Then start acting like it! This isn't some bake sale your in charge of. Everything isn't always going to be flowers and puppy dogs. But you do what you have to do because it's your job."  
  
"Is that all that's important to you, your job? Have you ever even cared for anything besides yourself? I'm sorry if I'm not an unfeeling bastard like you are!" She turned away from him. There was no way she'd let him see her cry.   
  
"And what good has caring ever done for you? Everyone close to you got slandered on the tabloids during elections and you're a fool if you think it'll stop there."  
  
"Get out! Get the hell out of my office right now!"   
  
A sigh.  
  
"Why are you crying?" his voice is softer now, if not more gentle.  
  
"Why do you think?" her words are bitter.  
  
"Don't do this." his eyes closed, "Never let anyone see you care. Your heart isn't strong enough to handle their political games."  
  
"And what about your games?"  
  
"I-" a pause "It shouldn't matter what I say." His voice hardened once more.  
  
"Well it does damn it! I need you, asshole! I need," a half sob escaped her lips, "I need your strength."  
  
And she was in his arms, melting into him, releasing the passion, anger, and frustration held inside. They came together, fierce, brutal, desperate. She clung to him, a rock admist her rage. And he memorized her body, his bloodied hands running over the angel he didn't deserve.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
  
She stood at the window, staring out at the endless night. The dark man slipped behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She leaned her head back on his chest, never taking her eyes off of the sky.  
  
"Do you think there's anything out there? It saddens me to think were alone in the universe, but its frightening to think were not. They really are beautiful. I don't think I've taken the time to really look since I've been in office."   
  
The stars brightened and she blinked at the intruding light. The world seemed to shift out of focus.  
  
She blinked again, she was feeling light headed. She hadn't ate that morning.  
  
"Do you have any enemies Ms. Briefs?" The detective questioned her.   
  
"No, I told you I have no clue who it could be. It's probably a fan. This isn't the first time I've had a stalker." She had been in his office for hours! She couldn't believe how incompetent this man was. Prattling on about enemies and asking her to make a list of people she knew. She was a famous actress! She wouldn't be done by labor day if she tried to write out everyone she knew, or that knew her.   
  
"Ok, well we'll look into it. In the mean time, one of my men will stay with you."  
  
"I don't think that's necessary. Besides, what would my fans think if I was having some strange man live with me!"  
  
"What would they think if you turned up dead? I'm sorry to be blunt, but this psycho sneaked past your state of the art security system. I wouldn't be comfortable leaving you alone."  
  
She supposed he was right. She had the best system on the market and it was unsettling how easy some sicko managed to bypass it. She had been out of the country when it happened, but the thought of it happening again when she was in her house quickly settled her mind. She could still see that creepy message on her mirror when she shut her eyes.  
  
She nodded her consent and a dark man was sent in. The detective smiled, he wasn't sure the young actress wouldn't be in more danger with his man there, but he knew everyone on the force would feel a lot safer without working with that lunatic. He was dangerous and unpredictable. But he was the best.   
  
  
  
Vegita glanced at the young women in his care. Something told him he should know her. She was definitely familiar. He tried to determine where he knew her from. The cut of her clothes pointed to prostitute, but the material was too expensive for a common working girl. No, he had a sense that it wasn't from around the station.   
  
"So, should I know you?"  
  
"Of course!" she replied haughtily, "I'm only the hottest actress out there!"  
  
Something told him it was more then that, but he pushed it out of his head. She lead him into a guest room.  
  
"You can stay here."  
  
"Where is your room?"   
  
"It's in the east wing."  
  
"I need a room closer to yours if I'm to catch this guy."  
  
"Fine. But no funny business!" She warned him as she led him to a room across the hall from her own. She had wanted him as far away as possible, but she also wanted to live so she figured a compromise was in order.  
  
He inspected his room, her room and looked at all the windows. When he was satisfied with knowing all the ways in and out of this wing. He allowed her back into her room.  
  
  
  
  
  
Vegita was already up the next morning when she came into the kitchen for breakfast. She yawned and moaned as she blindly tried to fix herself a cup of coffee. It wasn't four in the morning yet, and she didn't have enough cognitive abilities awake to question what her 'body guard' was doing up. He grabbed the pot from her hands before she spilt it all over herself and really woke up. He poured her a cup and set it in front of her. She sipped it carefully, but there wasn't much difference in her state.  
  
"I'm a famous actress," she moaned, "I'm supposed to get perks! Not get up at some ungodly hour every morning to go to work!"  
  
"Quit complaining. It wouldn't be work if it was fun. Guarding you isn't my idea of a good time either but you do what you have to do because it's your job."  
  
"Is that all that's important to you, your job?" she questioned through slitted eyes and handed him her cup to refill. It was too early. She yawned and missed him flinch at her question. Something tugged at his mind, something he should remember. But the feeling disappeared as she continued. "Anyways, are you coming with me to the set today?"  
  



	2. ....and then there was darkness

Part II…I know it's been forever but so sue me! Let me know if you like…I'm not thrilled with this part it's just a filler to get me to more interesting parts…

The man in his grasp giggled. "My, you are strong one, aren't you? She sure knows how to pick them!" He carefully removed himself from the stronger mans grasp, "But this will only take a minute. I need you to stand here so that we can adjust the camera angles. That good for nothing Jake still hasn't managed to turn up yet but you're about his size so you can stand in. Ok, no not there." He moved Vegita over a step, "There! Ok, hold it."

Bulma looked up from her conversation with the director to see Paul manhandling her bodyguard. 

"You moved! No no no, you need to stand here but look there." He grabbed Vegita's chin and forced it in the other direction.

"I did not move." He ground out as his hands reached to circled the other man's throat.

"Vegita, why don't we take a break?" He looked from the woman next to him to the man he was currently strangling. The reason he was stuck in this particular job in the first place was that he didn't have much restraint on his violent edge. He somewhat reluctantly let the man go, gasping for air, and turned to the woman leading him away.

"You're welcome." She told him. He stared at her blankly.

"I'm not the one that should be thanking you."

"I don't know, he seemed to be the kind to get off on pain." She giggled at his expression.

"Come on big boy, let me just get my water bottle and then we'll get out of here." 

No sooner then she ducked into her dressing room; he heard her scream.

He raced into the room, feeling for the first time fear. His eyes scanned the room, his muscles tensed and his brain assessed the dangers. She threw herself into his arms and he caught sight of what spooked her. Another cryptic message was on the mirror: 'He Can't Save You'.

He let her hold him, but stilled his arms from comforting her the way they longed to. 

"That's it, you're done for the day. We're leaving."

She nodded mutely. There were still so many scenes left but she was in no mood to argue. He pulled her behind him as he led the way out of the studio.

"Hey-hey where do you think you're going? We're not done yet!" The director yelled from his high chair.

"We're leaving now," Vegita ground out, "is that a problem?"

"No, no, that's fine," the director cowed under his unrelenting gaze.

Bulma curled up next to Vegita as he drove her home. One of his first actions was to get rid of her driver and anyone else that were in positions to be alone with her. 

Her hair spilled over him, filling his head with the scent of her shampoo, a scent that was oddly familiar. She smelled like lilacs and vanilla. Where had he smelled that scent before? 

She felt so small pressed against him. He stretched his neck out. There was something going on here, something not right. He didn't care about himself or anyone else for that matter. So why did his heart nearly jump out of his chest when he heard her scream? He knew her for less then forty-eight hours yet she seemed to be the only familiar thing in his life. How could he know her so well, know her scent, know her voice, know her mind, how could he know _her_ in just a couple days?

He didn't buy that love at first sight crap; hell he didn't buy that love crap at all. Hearts and flowers were fine for the weak. But he was strong, and the strong didn't need anybody else. He was quite content by himself. Which meant this thing, whatever it was, wasn't natural.

Was it a spell, was it a curse? Did she have some sort of magic power or was she a pawn in this as well?

He blinked his eyes as the light outside seemed to get brighter. He felt a little lightheaded.

"Get your ass up and out here, we got to get you all pretty for your visitor."

The door opened to his solitary cell, and light spilled in, the first light he'd seen in weeks. He turned his head to the side, ignoring the guard's command. He was naked, filthy and chained up like a wild animal. Course anyone who looked in his eyes could see that wasn't the most inappropriate comparison. 

"I said get your ass up!" The guard lifted his baton, but then thought twice of it and slid it back into his belt loop. He grabbed one of Vegita's arms and yanked him up. Vegita thought to fight it, out of principle if for no other reason, but he didn't care anymore. He couldn't even muster enough emotion to hate the pigs that kept him locked up. With an apathetic glaze settling over his eyes, he let the pig lead him into the showers. 

In fifteen minutes he emerged clean of dirt and pretty in a new uniform. The scalding water hadn't touched his soul though, and the filth that clung to his insides hadn't washed down the drain with the grime on his body. The dragged him into a room and chained him to a chair. They hadn't left enough slack to move his fingers, but he hadn't tried. 

He didn't look up as the woman entered the room. From the little they told him he gathered that some reporter was interested in doing a story on him. Imagine that. 

"Hi, I'm Bulma Briefs." The woman introduced herself to him and settled into a chair across the steel table. She tried to not let him intimidate her.

His eyes slowly rolled upwards to look at her. Blue. The color registered in his brain.

"You know who I am." 

"Yes, yes I do. I'm here because I'm working on a-"

"You want to ask me questions?"

"Yes, as I was saying I-"

"I don't care why. I don't care about you. So ask your questions so you can go away and tell everyone how you talked to the big bad and how you were so scared you were quaking in your Gucci boots." He hadn't meant to say so much. The apathetic tone he affected didn't seem too genuine anymore. She was so familiar. Something in the way she sat- it didn't matter. He was telling the truth when he said he didn't care about her.

"Scared? I'll show you scared you son of a-" she stopped her tirade abruptly. She needed to calm down. She didn't completely trust the chains that bound him to the chair. "I'm sorry." She plastered a placating smile on her face. "You've killed over 30 men, you must understand that the world is interested in your motives, in what makes you tick."

"Thirty?" the chuckle that escaped was hoarse and rusty, "I've _killed_ well over double that amount Ms. Briefs." He stared her down a moment, then uncharacteristically allowed himself to feel enough pity to explain. "The first couple dozen just were done legally. I was the government's hit man, or didn't you do your homework?"

"I-I knew you worked for the government but- how could they ask you to kill so many men? Didn't you have a problem with it?"

"Nobody's born with a taste for murder, and government sanctioned or not, that was what it was." He leveled her with a stare. "The first couple kills are never _fun_ but I did what I had to do because it was my job."

"There's more important things in life then your job."

Her comment caught him off guard. 

"Have we met before?"

"No."

He growled to himself in frustration. Something was wrong; he could smell it in the air. 

"Ok, um, questions." she sorted through her stacks of papers. "You have to understand how curious the public is, the police can't seem to establish a motive for any of your murders. Why did you kill them?"

"Which ones?"

"Any." He stared blankly at her. "Ok, here, what about Josh Fitzgerald?"

"Who?"

She pulls out a photo and shows him a picture of a young man.

"Oh. He spilt his coffee on me."

"And?"

"It was hot."

"Ok, what about Gloria Strickler?"

She presents another picture.

"She didn't say 'God bless you' when I sneezed"

"God, you took all these lives. Did you have a good reason for any of them? What kind of monster are you? How could you not care?"

She threw the remaining pictures on the table and sighed, her back facing him.

"That guy."

"What?" She turned around.

"The guy in the black and white, to the left." he growled, frustrated at his inability to move enough to even point.

"Yes?" He paused for a dramatic moment.

"He stole my newspaper." A traitorous smirk spread across his face. 

She walked over him, dangerously close to such a self-professed sociopath and picked up the scattered pictures. Her hair hung loose and brushed his arm.

His nostrils filled with the scent of lilacs and vanilla. His breathing became ragged as his mind was intruded with images.

"I know you." 

Her voice sounded in his mind.

__

"Is that all that's important to you, your job? Have you ever even cared for anything beside yourself? I'm sorry if I'm not an unfeeling bastard like you are!" 

He shook his head, his wild eyes searching the room. Something was wrong.

__

"I'm a famous actress," she moaned, "I'm supposed to get perks! Not get up at some ungodly hour every morning to go to work!"  


"Stop it!" he screamed. Guards rushed into the room as he struggled against his bonds. He felt the needle slide into his arm, his brain instantly numbing.

__

"Come on big boy, let me just get my water bottle and then we'll get out of here."

And then there was blackness…

He woke back in his cell. His mouth was dry and his body bruised. He moved his right arm and winced at the pain.

…pain…

It had been so long since he felt pain, since he felt anything. He struggled to remember. His mind was fuzzy, a side effect of the tranquilizer they'd given him he was sure.

Blue.

A flash, and then it was gone. 

He groaned more in mental anguish then in physical pain. Bits and pieces of their conversation found their way through the maze of his mind to him. 

__

"God, you took all these lives. Did you have a good reason for any of them? What kind of monster are you? How could you not care?"

She threw the remaining pictures on the table and sighed, her back facing him. They scattered across the steel table, some overlapping. The subjects were an odd mix; young, old, alive, dead. But one caught his eye. It was a snapshot, probably taken from someone's photo album for identification. A man with an easy smile and dead eyes stared at him. He closed his eyes briefly; thankful the woman's back was turned. As numb as he was, it still felt like a fist in his chest to see his first victim: the man that raped and murdered his wife.

The door to his cell opened and he squinted against the sudden intrusion of light. The lights brightened and then he felt the world shift. 

Sometime later he wakes.

He looks around.

Where is he?

He's in some…motel room…

He doesn't know how long he's been here, 

or how he got there…

just some anonymous motel room… 

it won't tell him anything. 

Nothing in the drawers, but he'll look anyway. 

Nothing except the Gideon bible. 

ok, I have the last chapter written, I'm just trying to get from here to there so hopefully it won't be too long before I get the rest written and up.


End file.
